


Baby is the name of the Car, dammit.

by seryle



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 16:13:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/955166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seryle/pseuds/seryle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time was a complete coincidence.</p><p>Dean started the night with gun training. This would go down as one of the worst choices in Winchester history, a list that included ‘that time we stopped by the Mafia-run diner’ and ‘no this hotel is closer I’m sure the sign is out due to power failure.’ It seemed like a good plan; start with Dean’s strength, and work out from there. Castiel tried his best to mimic the elder Winchester’s motions. Several spent casings and two frustrated thirty year olds later, the wall was riddled with bullets, the target unharmed, and Cas wanted to throw the gun across the room, except that Dean was closer and a much better target. Dean gently pulled the pistol out of the ex-angel’s hands and smiled.</p><p>"Why don’t we move on to something else?" he asked, blue eyes squinting at him in disbelief. Cas stood unmoved by Dean’s easy attitude. This was a trick. It had to be a trick. Stupid useless projectile weaponry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Baby is the name of the Car, dammit.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by my personal headcannon that Dean's nickname for Castiel would not be baby. Not by a longshot.

The first time was a complete coincidence.

Dean started the night with gun training. This would go down as one of the worst choices in Winchester history, a list that included ‘that time we stopped by the Mafia-run diner’ and ‘no this hotel is closer I’m sure the sign is out due to power failure.’ It seemed like a good plan; start with Dean’s strength, and work out from there. Castiel tried his best to mimic the elder Winchester’s motions. Several spent casings and two frustrated thirty year olds later, the wall was riddled with bullets, the target unharmed, and Cas wanted to throw the gun across the room, except that Dean was closer and a much better target. Dean gently pulled the pistol out of the ex-angel’s hands and smiled.

"Why don’t we move on to something else?" he asked, blue eyes squinting at him in disbelief. Cas stood unmoved by Dean’s easy attitude. This was a trick. It had to be a trick. Stupid useless projectile weaponry.

They moved on to something simple, like identifying if the noise in the Impala was caused by an old belt or a loose bolt or a rod knock. Cas caught on to the sounds quickly, easily able to differentiate the bang of a mistimed rod from the rattle of a unbalanced fan. Dean tried his best to hide the smug smirk as the pupil surpassed the master in diagnosing the problem. Fixing it proved more difficult, but not impossible.

In a fit of smug superiority, Dean decided to move on to hand to hand combat. Woe to the poor soul who thought they could best a celestial being with over 2000 years of literal hands on experience with every form of fighting established. Castiel repeatedly thrashed him at every ruled form contest that could be named. Aikido. Brazilian ju-jitsu. Drunken Redneck. Castiel won out every time, with or without rules, one handed or unrestricted, armed or not. Dean continued to pursue the end of the angel’s talents. His mind said this was a test of the newly made human’s strength. His heart said something completely different.

Castiel pinned him to the mat for the umpteenth time that day, each occurrence with considerable flare and decisiveness. This particular victory for Cas involved the use of a knife hovering inches from Dean’s neck. Dean watched the absolute predatory look in Castiel’s eye before daring to bob his adam’s apple in a swallow. That moment was the first time he said it.

"Easy there, Tiger."

The angel blinked, a few seconds required for his synapses to fire and recognize that Dean meant him, that this nickname was aimed in his direction. He used more pressure than was necessary to steady his knees against Dean’s body while shifting his weight to his hands so he could push the two of them off the floor.

"Apologies," he mumbled, suddenly unable to look the hunter in the eye. Dean burst out laughing, causing Cas to smile at Dean’s easy disposition.

"No harm, no foul, Cas," he said, clapping him on the shoulder to guide the pair up the stairs where beer lie in wait. Without any given reason as to why, that memory stuck in Castiel’s mind for several weeks.

The second time was rather incidental.

It was by no means an accident that Cas had shoved Dean against the wall, lips pressed against his own, eyes screwed shut in commitment as Dean’s widened in surprise. It was by no means a coincidence, either, that Dean’s hands carded through Castiel’s hair while his eye own eyes closed in acceptance, lips gently working the angel’s open. So infatuated by the man’s response was Castiel that he immediately went for Dean’s belt, fumbling with the buckle in his hurry to move things along before Dean could change his mind. A small chuckle erupted from Dean’s chest, causing him to switch attention from Castiel’s lips to his forehead, a chaste kiss planted there as he wrapped his angel in a hug.

"Slow down there tiger," he smiled, lips caressing Castiel’s cheek with every word. "We’ve got plenty of time." Castiel complied only because the term was used with such love, such promise, such desire. He settled for slowly sucking on Dean’s neck, and if the two of them fell asleep before anything could progress further, than that was their business.

The third time was out of complete desire to drive his lover to the brink.

It wasn’t their first time. It definitely would not be their last time. But as Castiel snapped his hips forward, reveling the sinful sound of skin on skin, Dean pushed him over the brink simply by asking, “Please, tiger, oh fuck please,” causing Cas to come instantly, recognizing that his transition as complete from enemy to friend to lover. And if in the aftermath Dean pulled him closer whispering how Castiel was the perfect tiger, so cuddly and cute and ferocious and capable of murder, Castiel would never tell anyone else out of fear that the Dean would stop whispering to him when they woke up in the morning.

"Hey Tiger, make me coffee."


End file.
